Empty Glasses

[Dante Sotari]

Ultimately, it turned out that it didn't matter who was better at darts. Morgan ended up being better at avoiding being jostled. ​Dante paid for that round of drinks (with a certain mock grump) and they turned the dart board over to another trio before rejoining Rish at the bar. A couple more beers in now and Dante was more her usual self (when she was having fun anyway), and they started to swap stories, beginning of course with Rish answering Morgan's questions from earlier.


Nothing of real weight was shared of course. Just one ridiculous or hilarious story after another. Some obviously embellished, but listened to and accepted as is.... except when laughing exclamations of 'bullchit' were necessary of course.

"All the truth," Dante insisted with a laugh, a couple of beers later. She was leaning against the bar, face flushed from laughter and alcohol, everything comfortably hazy. Movements precise and slightly exaggerated, words either over enunciated or starting to slur depending on how much attention she was paying to them.

"No, listen, listen- he woke up the next morning and couldn't figure out why his bunk was covered in just left shoes and he was sleeping on the floor. Sergeant did say jack, and he never remembered... or if he did, well, would you admit ta that? I wouldn't."

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

Rish started coughing from the laughter, some of the alcohol going through his nose and Morgan spend a few seconds slapping him on the back, until he managed to recover some measure of composure. "Th-tat is my cue, I thfink, ya." Planet-boy would finally say, giggling in between, but always keeping one eye out back towards where Dee had last been seen.

Not so obvious, unless you were paying attention.

And even with heavy arms, a lot of beers and an easy grin plastered on Morgan's lips, he saw. "Uh huh." He retorted, leaning heavily against the bar and sending Dante a meaningful glance.

"Make suuure to say hi for me, yah?"

Nose turned up high in mock indignation, Rish already turned around. "Good day, sir. I sa- sa... said good day!" Morgan laughed free and heartly at that. It would be the first time that Dante actually heard him laugh like that. Free, with no worry and just completely in the moment without wondering about this or that. No calculation, no caution marring the moment whatsoever.

"Mor, another beer for you two?"

Barkeep turned around, waiting patiently for their reply. Morgan shrugged. "Think it's time for sooooomething, hmm stronger, aye?" That last bit to Dan.

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Oh man, you know I should walk 'im back or somethin', he looks pretty drunk.... right Rish? Rish?"

But Rish ignored her anyway, even though it was obvious that he'd heard her, and she was just left with her hands up in the air and a shrug over exaggerated turning her shoulders up.

"Meh, I'll put shaving cream in 'is pillow tomorrow," she muttered.

She missed what Morgan was teasing Rish about, but didn't miss the tone of the laughter. Not a hint of meanness to it. Just pure, unadulterated enjoyment and ease. She wondered, briefly, what it would take to get that out of him again.

"Ab-so-lute-ly," she said, leaning over the bar and flagging the bartender- who was already right there. "Rish doesn't do hard liquor, apparently he ends up a hot mess on everyone. Talks about his dog​ if you can believe it. Gave him scotch once. Never again."

A pair of the same were poured for them, tumblers rather than shots, and she accepted that spirit at least for a moment.

"Your friend.... Dee was it? Givin' the stink eye all night. What's his deal?"

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

Hands curled around the tumbler when she asked the question.

"Dee?" Morgan looked back over his shoulder to where he had last seen Dwayne, but couldn't actually localize him now. Weird, he had just been there a few moments ago. Funny how quickly it moved once liquor and good music was into play. "I don't even know, he probably wanted me to play wingman to him this night."

A shrug and he pulled at the tumbler, taking a sizeable swirl and then closed his eyes. Letting the burn settle against his tongue and inside of the cheeks.

"Ooph, that *is* god." A snort as he caught himself. "Good too presumably." Morgan was pleased with himself when he was able to pronounce it in one try. "Is a fun night, Dan, wasn't too sure first but you got fun friends."

Another sip, more eyes closing and feeling the burn.

Then the thing was empty before he knew it. It always went quick, that first one. Just the way it is. "That was fast." A bit disappointed.

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Hmmm? Hey, that's an easy fix."

She'd found herself watching him, the way he smiled, the tilt of his head, the way he closed his eyes and almost hummed with appreciation for the drink in his glass. She'd finished her own a moment later, realizing she'd been staring and downing it faster than she'd intended. She motioned for a refill, turning to face him, leaning against the bar.

"Betchu make a great wingman," she chuckled. "Hey, maybe you can help me. Or Rish, really. I," she stated, putting her hand over her heart and speaking with a certain solemnity and gravity it was almost comical, "am a terrible wingman. He's told me so. Ex- ex- ecpli- specifically."

She did a lousy impression of Rishi.

"Dan, you are entirely useless to me. That is the opposite of helpful."

Taking another sip, she smiled, tilting her head at him.

"Impart upon me the wisdom of the wing, Vance. What makes a good wingman?"

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Hmmm? Hey, that's an easy fix."

She'd found herself watching him, the way he smiled, the tilt of his head, the way he closed his eyes and almost hummed with appreciation for the drink in his glass. She'd finished her own a moment later, realizing she'd been staring and downing it faster than she'd intended. She motioned for a refill, turning to face him, leaning against the bar.

"Betchu make a great wingman," she chuckled. "Hey, maybe you can help me. Or Rish, really. I," she stated, putting her hand over her heart and speaking with a certain solemnity and gravity it was almost comical, "am a terrible wingman. He's told me so. Ex- ex- ecpli- specifically."

She did a lousy impression of Rishi.

"Dan, you are entirely useless to me. That is the opposite of helpful."

Taking another sip, she smiled, tilting her head at him.

"Impart upon me the wisdom of the wing, Vance. What makes a good wingman?"

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

"Ain't that the truth." Morgan chuckled, before they clinked their tumblers together as the refill came through. The first sip was quickly followed by a second one and then he laughed. The chiming of bells, free and pleasant and very intoxicated. There was a reason that he had started to join her on these nightly rumps around time, even if it wasn't really his first instinct. It made him feel good. Part of him knew that it wasn't real, that you could only push your problems in front of you for so long, before you would stumble.

Some day he'd have to reckon with it.

But the night was young and the company was pleasant and the drinks flew rich.

Not today.

"Ohmmm, well." Head tilted as he exaggerated how much he truly had to think about it. Leaning in, conspiratorially, as if Morgan was about to share a grand secret with her. "The wisdom... the trick, is one of... per- hmm, perseptiooon, yes."

Finger went up, punctuating it with a brief wave.

"Eveeeery move you make... gotta- gotta, you understand, got to do this really, make your partner more attractive at your own expense." Smirk reached up and he briefly brushed the side of her jaw with his eye, lingering at her lips for a moment. "Ain't gonna be hard with you, I reckon." Somewhere in between that half of the glass was already empty. That made him chuckle again for some reason. He was okay, mostly. Still coming to the state of drunk they had experienced together in the past.

But he let go.

Stopped caring and his body responded by easing its hold as well.

"Think I want another smoke, you coming?" Glass went with him as did the warmth of his shoulder against hers as he pushed himself off the bar, lingering for only a moment for her to decide, before making his way outside for the moment.

 

[Dante Sotari]

The music flowed, different from the other night, but good. She leaned in, the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes selling the 'telling a secret,' and she smirked, eyes casting over the curve of his chin to his lips as he spoke, taking a long drink of the whiskey as she did.

"Hmmm, well, that explains it then," she said, finishing the drink. She held the glass by her fingertips, balancing it on the edge of the bar. "Ain't no pretending I'm not way cooler than he is. I'll accept lousy wingman in that case." The smirk was too deep, the smugness too wide. Bravado, rather than real confidence. But fake it till you make it, and never let them know they get to you. Two rules she kept. Wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't just tried to add a compliment in there.

She wasn't getting drawn back in, no. Yeah, he had a nice face and *man* he was nice in... well. Cute face, nice body, attentive. But he was just a warm body. Just marking time. She was just about to order another round when he got up, and she was reminded of another one of his, ahem, assets.

You made me get mad and you made me get sad
The going gets tougher than you aint never had
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying.

"Yeah sure," she said, glancing over at the bartender and tapping the counter, letting him know they'd be back and they'd take another round when they did.

This time she grabbed her gorram coat.

It was even quieter out here now.

"Can't wait to get back off of Bastion," she muttered, shoving her hands deep into her pockets and looking balefully up at the sky. She leaned heavily against the outside wall, this time facing him as she tapped out another stick of tabac, bringing it to her lips for him to light.

"Hate thith plathe," she got out around it.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

He leaned in again.

Hands making a little dome around the tip of her cigarette, while his head briefly touched hers. "Ooh, sorry there." Mor mumbled as he fumbled with the lighter for a moment. Two seconds in and the flame burned bright, casting a light on both of them.

His attention slipped from the tip to her eyes, watching him.

He watched back for a moment, "Hey, you." Then leaned back and started fumbling for his own little stick of pure joy. "All good?" Moment later his was burning too and they settled in comfortably against the wall and each other.

Support, warmth, balance, it simply made sense.

"Give me Rishi." Vance responded dreamily, before a soft giggle followed. "The planet this time around, not the guy."

Straight as an arrow after all.

"Warm, pleasant, stick to the starport and all is well. Mmhm." Puff of the cigar smoke out. It steadied his hands a bit. Kept him calmer too with the beat of his heart slowing down just a touch. It had skipped a few beers when he had noticed her look.

"What about you, favorite planet?"

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Hey," she echoed back faintly, swaying slightly when he pulled back- she'd leaned in slightly, forehead to forehead and his retreat left her ever so slightly off balance. It was the alcohol, of course.

She grunted an affirmative to his 'all good', taking a long, low drag.

Turning, she settled her back against the wall. Shoulder to shoulder, just the slightest trace of pressure between their arms, they looked up at the sky, for a moment before she was arching her eyebrow at him.

"Give me Rishi."

"Well, if you insist...."

"The planet this time around, not the guy."

"He'll be disappointed," she observed with a smirk, gesturing with her tabacc. Head turned, she watched him, face in profile against the night, as he talked about it. The planet, not the guy of course.

Pulling the stick away from her mouth, she ran her tongue over her teeth, drawing in a slightly hissing breath, brow furrowed.

"Can't say that I have a favorite," she said finally, flicking ash into the wind, away from him. Chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully, she squinted up at the cloudy sky.

"Last eight years.... one job after another. Pick up and move to the next. Not a lot of time ta explore and enjoy I guess. Most places are basically hellholes anyway."

A moment, a flicker of insight. Seven years in the Alexandrian military. Signed on the day she turned 18, mostly to spite her parents. One year on the run. Most of the planets around her homeworld were at best unpleasant. And she'd been conscious of choosing places while she was making her way across the galaxy that she could get lost in, unnoticed. No idyllic landscapes there.

But.....

"Bakura's okay I guess."

Flippant, casual. But his face still floated up and she regretted saying anything immediately.

"Kinda boring actually," she muttered, pushing back off of the wall.

"Chit it's cold as Kaine's balls out here," she made a face. "Who'd have thought the SITH would be the ones to outlaw smoking in public buildings. Didn't see *that* coming."

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

"Bakura's fine, aye, ain't a lot of places in the Unknown Regions you don't gotta duck reavers, monsters or insistent used-ship salesmen." Glance turned dim for a little moment as expression turned deadpan serious. "Or all three at once, Fa forbid." It was strange, because until she had mentioned Bakura he hadn't actually thought about that place of the Galaxy for... ever. Really. But the moment the name came, so did the memories slowly flood in. It was trauma. According to the doctors anyway. A way for his mind to protect himself from heavy memories.

Just shutting down parts and locking them behind lock and key.

"Right?" He took another puff and shook his head slightly. The cold didn't bother him much. The bite was there, but the alcohol flowing through his body did an admirable job keeping him warm for the most part.

One more puff and the cigarette crumbled beneath his boot.

"Aright, lessgo back inside, I can still speak co...erently." They wandered back in, settled down, immediately started downing glasses. First Morgan assumed it was the cold, then he wasn't sure, then the alcohol started hitting him in force and there wasn't much more that he cared about than her leaning against him and giggling as he said something... moderately witty.

"....mhm, ya, tell ya right now- Dee had to do push-ups 'til he threw up, sarge never... never laughed asss hard as that." Smirk up and another pair of glasses emptied down in front of 'em. "Honest.... super honest."

He looked back, noticed her looking at him.

Soft smile.

"Hmm, feel like dancin'?"

 

[Dante Sotari]

Once they got back inside, she started hitting the drinks harder, putting them back at a more serious rate than she had been before. Memories of Bea had reared up, and there was only one good way to deal with those. She hadn't expected him to pick up and match her, but he did, and at some point she lost count.

Which usually meant a good night.

She'd regained her humor, leaning against him and laughing *hard*, hard enough to leave her wheezing slightly, face red.

"Bet he learned not ta kark wit' sarge," she finally managed to get out, running her hand over her face. "Phewwwweee."

Setting her glass on the bar, she tapped again, the first time missing the edge of the bar and needing to recalibrate. It took her a moment of concentration, but eventually she got it. This was a familiar bar, and the staff knew her, along with most of the rest of the barracks. Somewhere else she'd probably get cut off, but they knew she wasn't prone to starting trouble and that everyone looked out for everyone else to make sure folks got home okay.

She blinked, realizing she'd been watching him, refocusing her attention just as his expression softened.

"Oh heeeeey, you-" she paused, smiling wide and easy and a little goofy. "I know. You. Me. Dancing." She pointed a finger at him, closing one eye to look down the length of it at his nose. "Daaaaaan'grous stuff, that."

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

The next go round was already in his hand, fingers curled tight, because anything else would offer a large risk of spillage and that seemed to be such a waste in the very pleasant moment.

"Mmmhm, veeeerry dangerous. Risky." Eyes squinted as the tip of his tongue was caught between teeth in concentration almost. It was almost as if he was calculating the exact risk that it would be. A shrug, shoulders up, down, fingers curled tight and a swig taken from the drink and it burned bright. Strange how even now Morgan was able to feel the bite, even with everything he had poured down his throat already.

Shoulda been a firestorm up in that place already.

"Wooorth it? Hmm. Yes." Vance pushed himself up, steady, steaaaady and managed not to land on his face. His palm up to the ceiling and her hand rested easily on it... when did that happen?

Between the first two blinks, he supposed.

A soft pull and she was up, he steadied her by instinct, but that caused his balance to be out of whack. He stumbled and she steadied him again. Barely. It was only his elbow on the counter that caused him to keep both their balances. Then she was in his arms when trip turned into a pull. "Mmm, steady breath, Dan, ain't even started to dance."

Lips against her ear, so comfortable, the lean steep as her breath washed against his neck.

"Could... skip- mmm, the dance, do a diff'rent one, hmm?"

 

[Dante Sotari]

She closed her eyes, the feeling of his mouth against her ear warm and teasing. Inviting. Tipped halfway back against the bar, her arms were around his neck, holding on tightly- if she didn't she suspected both of them would topple right over, taking a couple of stools with them.

"You-" She blinked, pulling back slightly to get his face back in focus. "YOU sir, are drunk," she said with all of the confidence of someone likewise drunk. She was not particularly better off than he was, but she had the experience (that long slow slide into something wrong) and the surety that it offered her an insight here that he lacked.

"If we daaance, we will be. Um. A public. Barking. Embarrassment." Each word carefully enunciated, chosen with deliberation, and there was a certain pride, a self important nod of her head, as she finished the thought.

At some point he'd leaned in farther as she'd talked, and her eyes flickered from his eyes to his mouth to his eyes again. She was leaned back against the bar as far as she could go, view taken up by the smirk on his lips, world narrowing to that and the feeling of his hands on the small of her back.

"No dance," she said, trying to be stern but ending up just coming out sort of vague and distant, her attention instead on his lips, that smirk.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

"Mmmm, mebbe you right." But it wasn't clear if he meant the dancing or the drunking. He wasn't that far gone. Yes, his hand was currently sliding down the slope of her curve, resting easily on the small of her back and there was some difficulty in remembering when that had happened... but it didn't matter. What matter was the shine of her eyes, the taste of her lips, touch of her body against his tight. "Might'be better to make it.... private, then... hmm, to avoid-"

They were kissing.

He blinked once and then melt against her softly.

Had he started? Her? Combination of both? Did it really matter? The way her nail brushed against the back of his neck told him it did not. Not when his hand hugged the curve of her backside, pressing her deeper against him or the hum against his lips.

It was a wash.

They broke the kiss and then they were moving.

Blink. Push off the bar. Blink. Corridor. Blink.

Part of Morgan wondered just how many blinks he had in him. The blunted part, the one deep, deep down that was only half there at the moment. Most of this was instinctive, guttural, a reflex born out of hunger and desire. Of stalling and stalling, until the string couldn't get tighter and simply broke under penned-up pressure. It snapped and that changed the entire dynamic, pushed away from caution towards something... else.

 

[Dante Sotari]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqsL0QQaSP4[/media]​

She never really knew who kissed who. It wasn't like that with them. Instead they kissed each other, the one place it was so easy to meet halfway. Halfway between lips and embrace, halfway between desire and heat. Dante was not the compromising sort, but here? This?

She could meet in the middle.

In one moment she had him pushed up against the wall, the next they were walking backward through a door. Neither cared what it was, or where they were going, just about where it was going to get them.

It was simply chemicals. Alcohol, neurotransmitters, hormones that had nothing to do with age or maturity. Just synapses rapidly firing one after another, overloading all sensory receivers. Touch and taste, body against body, it was just that. Nothing more. But it was good, and once again Dante found herself wanting to bend those rules of hers and simply saying kark it.

She could keep it separate. It was just chemicals, basically. Nothing personal. Nothing more. Maybe those rules had been good, useful, when she was on the run, but she was at least a little safer here. Nothing to do with him, of course. The situation. Sure. The stability made a 'rerun' or two less of a risk. So as long as they were having fun, did it really matter?

Keep the distance and it was fine. Just this, nothing else.

Just this.

The door closed behind them, vintage ad emblazoned.

A shave​

That's real​

No cuts to heal​

A soothing​

Velvet after-feel​

​

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

It was later.

That was all that Morgan could really say about the shift in time as they detached and slowly slipped fabric back on. Not in silence though, there were grins and soft, chiming laughs and more touches as playful banter threatened to spill over into a renewed... dance. But then something rudely knocked at the stall door, "WIll y'all knock it off already, I am trying to take a shet here!"

Morgan glanced over at Dan, who looked back, before they both burst into a giggle fit.

Out they came, belt still in a state of being tied up and passed the annoyed lad. The door of the toilets closed behind them and again she was in his arms, soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. "Mmm, take a drink with and continue my place?" Vance offered with a smirk, eyes roaming the line of her jaw where already the skin was already a shade of red from certain... marks of pressure.

Hand brushed boldly now, down the small of her back, the curve and slope, supporting up.

 

[Dante Sotari]

The exertion had sobered her up. A bit. Not much, but enough. Enough for a step back. Not that the invitation was not tempting. It was. Gods it was. But because it was temping. Getting in too deep here. Scratch an itch, get out. Inject some distance. Mal-adaptive strategies that kept her safe. They worked, or she wouldn't subconsciously hold onto them the way she was. But they weren't good.

His hand tightened on her lower back and it ticked over some familiar mental box- maybe it was the ease, maybe it was the vaguely possessive implication to it, maybe it was just because she wanted him to, it wasn't clear- but it was her cue to find an exit strategy. She didn't think about it, didn't break down the pale sense of low key panic. She just let it come out.

"Mmmm don't think so, sport."

Her hand planted firmly on his chest and she stepped back.

"That was fun, so let's leave it there."

No excuses that could be argued with, just something closing off in her face and eyes.

"Gonna head out. I'll catch you later Vance."

Other than what seemed like a slightly surprised 'okay', she didn't give him a chance for anything further. Shouldering her way through the crowd, she snatched her coat off of the stool. Fishing in a pocket, she left a credit chit for the bartender and without a look back was out the door. Pulling her coat on only after the frigid air hit her, she ducked her head into the wind, shoved her hands in her pockets.

And frowned.

Making an annoyed sound in the back of her throat, she made her feet start to move. Heading back to the barracks.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

Days later...​

[member="Dante Sotari"]​

​

Second drink in.

Just a beer.

Morgan didn't foresee this to be a night where he would go all out and get hammered drunk. It wasn't really his modus operandi anyway, usually that was only the case when Dante was around. But she had been MIA for the past week or so after that last night. That still confused him. Wasn't really sure what was up with that, but... in the end it didn't really matter, he did not think.

She was probably just busy.

They had a good time and then work caught up with her.

After all, they were still working the job together and on the mission she seemed completely fine. Steady hands, steady eye, there was nothing wrong there. "Yeah, give me another one." Vance retorted to the wordless question asked by the barkeep.

Another beer was pushed his way and Morgan accepted with a nod.

Good beer though. Made him happy he hadn't asked Dwayne with him this time around. That would have been an exhausting affair with him trying to seduce this lady or that, Morgan trying to be the best wingman he could be... a lot of embarrassment. Better to just settle down against the bar and enjoy a drink or two, before going back home and sleeping it off.

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Anyone sitting here?"

It had been about a week, and other than work, she had been deliberately avoiding him. It wasn't hard really, she'd gone farther afield for her bar nights, grabbing a cab back to the barracks instead of walking back. Hooked up a couple of times. Scratch an itch. Drink. Smoke. Dance. Fun.

And tried to pretend that she wasn't thinking about Morgan.

Oh, she wasn't in the moment, that was easy. It wasn't that kind of thing here, and the people she'd kissed and enjoyed'd had her full attention. No, it was later. Back in her own bed. Everything quiet, no noisy bar, dance partner, drink in hand to drown it all out.

She slid onto the stool next to him without waiting for an answer. With a flick of her hand, she signaled to the bartender 'whatever he's having', and leaned on the bar slightly, elbows resting on it, fingers laced together ahead of her. Just there like she hadn't been avoiding him all week. Not really sure the kind of reception she was going to get. She'd spent a bit, going over the options and had finally just said kark it and pulled on her jacket.

"Oh. Hey," she glanced over at him, as if just realizing he was who she'd sat next to. Which was ridiculous but she did it anyway.

[member="Morgan Vance"]